Change the rules? Change the game
by applesgoodfudgebad
Summary: Myka and Helena get locked overnight in an ex-agent's bedroom. Chess, Scotch, and Truth or Dare. "Because, occasionally, even when the odds are against you, you can find a way to come back from the darkness." Helena gave Myka a penetrating look. "You find the right piece, the one worth fighting for -sacrificing for- and in the end, they save you." Rated M for the final chapter.
1. Chapter 1

Lets just assume "Instinct" didn't happen, and H.G. returned to the Warehouse as an agent.

P.s. This is my second ever fic, so any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for looking!

H.G. and Myka were quiet, set about their business. It was Friday night, but in all honesty, Myka had nothing else better to do than sift through the belongings of a past Warehouse agent. She was secretly relieved when Helena had offered to accompany her. The two friends never seemed to get enough time alone.

"Now, I know I've been away for a few decades, but honestly, was this ever in fashion?" Helena held up an old brown jacket to her body; property of the ex-Warehouse agent in question. He had been killed by the artifact they were currently hunting down, and short on any leads, they decided to investigate him instead.

"No, I don't think our mystery agent was down with the kids." Myka replied. Helena paused for a moment, to process the new language, and no doubt filed it away somewhere in her vast brain.

"Am I...down with the kids, as you'd put it?" Helena asked, perplexed. Myka snorted.

"You have a grappling gun and you cosplay as Tomb Raider, I think you're every teenager's dream." Helena shook her head, in confusion, but laughed anyway. It was a beautiful sound, and seldom heard.

"I have no idea what cosplay is, but it sounds fun." She threw the old jacket in Myka's direction, and Myka batted it to the floor.

They continued in comfortable silence, until the a single siren sounded, deafeningly, and the light outside their artifact-driven window went out. They shared a look, more than slightly concerned. They both knew it was no fun, being trapped by an artifact. Helena tried the door.

"It's locked. Someone's shut down the artifact keeping these rooms accessible." Myka tried the window, but without the artifact's help, the glass was as solid as steel. The blackness outside the window was all consuming.

"Phone? Farnsworth?" Myka asked, as she patted her own empty pockets.

"I left mine on the dial outside the door." Myka nodded. She must have left hers in Artie's office. How stupid - it was Warehouse 101, to be contactable at all times. She sat down on the edge of the single bed in defeat.

"I guess we're stuck here until morning."

. . . . . .

"You didn't!" Pete said, with a huge grin, as Artie joined him outside the Warehouse. Artie handed Myka's Farnsworth over to Pete for safe keeping.

"I did. You and I both know that it's getting unbearable, between those two. I don't know what it is, but they need to sit down in a room together and hash it out." Pete was sure Artie was oblivious to the obvious sexual tension brewing between the two female agents; he only noticed anything was off when their work became impaired.

Artie called it fighting; Pete and Claudia called it flirting.

Pete rubbed his hands together happily. Maybe this was exactly what Myka needed. He just didn't want to be the one to free her.

. . . . . . .

Helena took a new kind of inventory as Myka watched.

"I have some water, you have those inedible looking red things-"

"Twizzlers. They're called Twizzlers. And they're definitely edible." Helena gave Myka an amused look of disbelief and continued her search.

"Even so, I think I'll take my chances with this sandwich." she held up the offending article. It looked repulsive, and a bite had been taken out of it. "It is a kindred spirit of mine, don't you think? frozen in time, just like I was." Myka looked horrified, but then noticed the look of disgust on Helena's face. She dropped the sandwich back into the draw and shut it.

"You're funny. I'm having more Twizzlers than you for that." Helena didn't look like that was too much of a punishment. She continued to survey their temporary home.

Helena lifted a bottle of scotch from a draw, and with a shrug, set it on the side for later.

"One chair, two pillows, one blanket, one bed..." Helena's voice lingered on the word, as though trying to sound as casual as possible about it. It had the exact opposite effect.

"Well, I can take the chair-"

"No no, we're both adults. And anyway, our fallen agent died in mid-November, so it might get chilly in here soon." Myka gave the room a once over, and for the fiftieth time that week - at least - she marveled at the secret World in which she lived. Endless wonder, indeed.

"This is the replica of the room, on the exact night that he died. Right down to the weather?"

"Right down to the scotch and the half eaten sandwich." Helena sat next to Myka on the bed, and started to sift through the bedside draws.

Helena pulled out a chess board, triumphant, and said, "well, at least we can make the best of this situation. Chess, inedible food, and a bottle of scotch. It'll be just like a sleep over." She set the board game aside at the bottom of the bed. The funny thing was, she genuinely sounded cheerful.

So the fallen agent must have had a companion once, to play chess with at least. Unless he played alone. The thought saddened Myka. She wondered what her room might look like, one day. Whether the Warehouse would take her, and leave her room, forever vacant, within this artifact. It was a chilling thought.

"Well that's me tidying my room twice as often." Myka said, and instantly regretted it. Helena understood her meaning, and looked troubled.

"Myka Bering, if I am certain of one thing in this new world, it's that the Warehouse will never take you. You're much too clever. And anyway, I wouldn't let it." Their eyes met, and the look lingered.

Myka found her voice and replied. "If you're looking for redemption, if you want to be a martyr, don't do it for my benefit. You've changed the rules of time itself to be here, now. With us. You're important-" _to me_. Myka stopped herself, just in time, but the unsaid message was received. Myka should have known; some of their best conversations were completely silent. The truth was, no one knew her better. Not even Pete.

Helena took Myka's hand in hers, and drew it to her lap. She smiled down at their joined hands, and rubbed little circles with her thumb. The sensation felt new, exciting, but also familiar, like a forgotten dream.

Helena continued. "One day you'll realize that I'm nowhere near as noble as you think me to be. My reasons are purely selfish." Myka waited, enthralled, for Helena to continue. "This new world wouldn't be worth living in, without you." Myka searched Helena's eyes, and saw that she really believed her words. She continued.

"I'm a relic, the outcome of my own failed experiments. You're what the world needs. I want to keep you safe." To Myka's surprise, Helena lifted her hand to her lips, and placed a delicate, lingering, kiss on the back of Myka's hand. The sensation raced up her arm and spread throughout her body. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of how close, how _intimate_, their current situation was.

"Then lets make a deal." Myka whispered; they were so close now, inexorably drawn towards one another. Normal speech would be too intrusive, and break their spell. Myka took her hand back, and immediately missed the warmth. Helena's eyes remained on her own lonely hand. Myka brushed a strand of black hair behind Helena's ear, and she leaned into the caress. Her reaction made Myka's heart race.

Myka's hand remained, gently coaxing Helena's gaze back towards her own. She wanted to see these words sink in. Myka wanted so desperately to tell her everything: that she would die for her, in a heartbeat, if it came to it - that she didn't know what she was feeling, but it was new, and deep, and maddening.

Of course, that was not their way; they spoke in puzzles, and complexities, both too afraid or simply unable to be plain. With Helena's full attention, Myka spoke.

"Let's keep each other safe, then. Let's always have each other's backs. No matter what." It couldn't be a competition anymore, this dance that they danced; each one out witting the other in acts of pain, and sacrifice. Myka was sure that if the Warehouse didn't kill her in the end, her love for H.G. Wells would.

_Love_. Her thoughts caught her unaware, even as they formed. But looking deep into her friend's dark, soulful eyes, she knew it was true. There was no denying it any more.

Helena put a hand over Myka's, against her cheek. This was usually the time when one or the other would break their moment, and they would recede again back into the unknown. That wasn't going to happen this time.

This was it. this was really going to happen. Myka's head spun, but not with confusion. She parted her lips, and Helena shifted towards her on the bed.

There was a sudden crash - the noise vibrated around the silent room like thunder. Helena gasped, and Myka physically jumped. The chess set had fallen from the bed, pieces rolling around on the floor. Helena laughed, more nervous than usual. Myka had never even seen Helena nervous before.

"Well," Helena said, releasing Myka's hand from their intimate position. "it seems we are forever destined to pick up chess pieces together."

Myka couldn't help but laugh. The tension broke with the sound. She slid to her knees on the floor, with more of a thud than she had intended; she wasn't quite in control just yet.

"Fancy a game?" Myka asked.

"With you? always." Helena replied, and began to set up the chess pieces on the floor between them.

. . . . . . .

Helena had been right: it was starting to get cold. Neither woman would acknowledge it at first. Whist waiting for Helena to decide her next move, Myka caved in.

"It's getting colder." Myka said, as casually as she could. Helena only nodded, her eyes not leaving the chess board. It was a genuine passion for her and -of course- she was exceptional. They had been playing for around 40 minutes, and Myka was doing everything she could just to hold on that little bit longer. She was down to one rook, one knight, and a handful of pawns. Her Queen had fallen long ago. She was done for, and she knew it.

After H.G. had taken her latest move, which took another of Myka's pawns and threatened her King once more, Myka's hand hovered over the King, ready to fall him in defeat.

"No! Myka, don't give up now there are-" Helena paused, calculating. Myka loved it when Helena was deep in thought. She looked so at home. "Well, there is only one way left for you to still win, and frankly, the odds aren't great, but you can't give up now."

"I can hardly feel my hands." This was an exaggeration, but not too far off the mark. Certainly in an hour or so this would be the case.

"In Warehouse 12, I had to finish every, single, game. Everyday. Even when I knew within ten minutes that I was going to lose."

"Then why bother?" Myka asked. It seemed like such a waste of time and thought. "Why not concede?"

"Why? because very occasionally, even when the odds are against you, you can find a way to come back from the darkness." Helena gave Myka a penetrating stare. "You find the right piece, the one worth fighting for -sacrificing for- and in the end, they save you."

"Fine." Myka made her move, with fake petulance, and opened up the Twizzlers. Helena's words weren't lost on her; this was exactly her fear. Did being connected to Helena always have to be life and death? Would that trait only intensify if they got closer?

"To continue your metaphor," Myka began, carefully. "What if we didn't fight, and sacrifice, and didn't play _this_ game at all. What if, instead of changing the rules, we change the game?" Helena contemplated Myka, almost proudly.

"And what game would you like to play instead?" Helena cocked her head, in her usual flirtatious manner, making it hard for Myka to remember what she was about to say.

"In general, in life, I'd love for us to never have to sacrifice anything or anyone ever again. But that isn't the world we live in, is it? With endless wonder comes endless sacrifice." Helena could sense the darkness in those words, and fought against them with her best sideways smile.

"And right now?"

"Hmm...Truth or Dare." Myka said, without a single hesitation. She didn't know where the thought even came from, except the night had become too heavy for her; too close to the truth. And anyway, it wasn't every day you could force H.G. Wells into eating a Twizzler. Or, indeed, into telling the truth.

I believe this will be one of three chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Change the rules? Change the game

Twizzlers, scotch and Truth or Dare.

2 of 3 thanks so much for reading!

"Truth or Dare..." Helena played the words over. "It sounds obvious, but for my own safety, please clarify the rules."

Myka had cleared away the chess pieces, and motioned for Helena to follow her to the bed. In a moment of rebellion, Myka grabbed the scotch. This earned Myka a raised eyebrow, but if she didn't know better, also a look of approval.

"What? This is our sleep over. Twizzlers, scotch and Truth or Dare." They sat together, leaning against the wall, and Myka covered them both in their single blanket.

"You can choose... Truth or Dare. If you choose Truth, I can ask you anything -anything at all- and you have to tell me honestly."

"And how would you know?" Helena asked, looking Myka up and down with a smile.

"Oh, I'll know. And if I suspect you're lying, you have a forfeit dare."

"This does sound fun. Are there any... boundaries for the dares? Will I need a safe word?" Helena asked, looking wicked. Myka could almost see her brain ticking.

"No..." Myka said, hesitant even as the word left her lips. Well, they were stuck in a room alone. At least they could only hurt, maim, embarrass, or enrage each other.

"Ok, me first. Dare." Helena said, fearless. Myka's heart grew at the sight of Helena, so happy and at ease. She'd start easy.

"Eat a Twizzler." Myka said, offering Helena the packet. Her nose scrunched in disapproval.

"Very well, for you."

Helena picked out a Twizzler, and took a bite. Myka had to laugh at the expressions that played across her face: displeasure, intrigue, dislike, then finally, enjoyment. "What an odd texture. But not entirely bad." Helena continued to eat her Twizzler, without complaint. "Your turn, my dear."

"Truth." Myka said, for no other reason that she was warm and comfortable sat right next to H.G. under their blanket, and didn't want to move. She wondered if it was a decision she would later regret.

"Have you ever been in love?" Helena asked, glancing sideways at Myka.

"Wow, and I started you off easy." Myka said, but still smiling. There was an age old loophole that Helena was not yet privy too. Unfortunately, it would only work once. "Yes, I've been in love."

"How many times, when, and with whom?" Helena asked, clearly getting into their game.

"ah-ah, no can do. Truth is a single question. If you want to ask me another question, I'll happily answer you, but you'll have to wait for the next turn." Myka smirked, triumphant.

"You knew I'd fall for that, didn't you?" Helena asked, visibly disappointed.

"Some girls play chess, some girls know stupid loop holes to Truth and Dare."

Helena leaned over and picked out another Twizzler. Myka raised an eyebrow, silently saying: _I told you so_. "Your pick, Helena."

"Dare."

"I dare you to choose Truth, instead." Myka retorted. Helena conceded with a nod.

"Truth."

"Have you ever been in love?" Myka asked, mirroring Helena's question.

"Oh, a hundred and one times, for a night at least." Helena smirked, and Myka blushed at her meaning. "For longer? Just the once."

"Really? In a hundred and fifty years? Just once?"

"And in the hundred and fiftieth year, at that." Helena said, causing Myka's heart to miss a beat. "Let's just say this new world isn't all bad, after all." Myka motioned to ask another question, but Helena stopped her before she began.

"No, sorry, I've told you more than enough for one turn of this game." Her eyes flittered between Myka's eyes, and lips. "Your turn."

"Truth." Myka decided. It seemed the lesser of two evils. Helena looked around the room for inspiration.

"If you could turn back the clock for a couple of hours, would you change the events of today?"

Myka thought on it, and on her companion. It seemed that time travel was embedded into Helena's mind, a constant reminder of her failings; a jagged sword.

"Yes." Myka decided. She loved that Helena was disappointed.

"Oh,"

"If I could turn back the clock on tonight, I would definitely have packed my pajamas, and maybe brought us a picnic." Myka laughed at Helena's relief.

"Me too. And maybe more Scotch. This isn't all bad, being trapped here, is it?" Myka shook her head, happy. It almost seemed like too much of a coincidence. But she wouldn't dwell on that, just yet.

"Your turn, Helena."

"Dare." Helena said immediately, and Myka wondered if she was avoiding Truth all together, after the previous round. Myka thought hard. She eyed up the old brown jacket on the floor, and inspiration hit.

"Go into that closet, and dress up in ancient old man clothes."

"Darling, don't you think I've spent enough of my years pretending to be a man?"

"Don't interrupt! Just like Truth, a Dare has to be one sentence."

"Very well," Helena nodded, and waited for her fate.

"Go into that closet, dress up in ancient, unfashionable man clothes, then..." the look on Helena's face -the suspense- was killing her. Myka decided to be kind. "Then... take them off again." Myka laughed. It felt wonderful.

"Alright." Helena got up, with a hint of rebellion in her eyes that Myka had seen before... and it had never once ended well.

Myka watched Helena search in the wardrobe for the items that offended her the least. She lifted them to her nose tentatively, deeming they were clean. Of course, she pulled out a plain white shirt, and a waist coat.

Helena stripped an instant, not even trying to hide behind the wardrobe door. Myka looked away, giving Helena some privacy. She spied black underwear in her peripheral vision, and blushed. She heard, as well as imagined, Helena stepping into trousers much larger than her petite waist, and fastening the belt tight.

"Myka, darling, would you do my tie for me?" Helena asked, so innocently. Her eyes told a different story. Helena was still buttoning up the large shirt when Myka walked to the wardrobe, and found the most offensive tie that she could see in there: a mustard yellow one. She moved forward and hooked the tie around the shorter woman's neck, then gently lifted her collar up.

"Would you like a Windsor, or a Half-Windsor, Mr. Wells?" Myka asked, determined to not be bested by her. From her slightly taller vantage point, Myka could see right down Helena's unbuttoned shirt, and she wondered whether Helena was buttoning from the bottom upwards intentionally to rattle her. Well, either way, it was working.

"Which ever is the easiest for you to remove." Helena replied, like silk. The woman had a way of making even the most innocuous sentence sound like foreplay. It was always Myka's downfall. She concentrated on not letting her hands fumble as she tied the tie. The chill in the room was long forgotten.

"There." Myka stepped back, admiring her work. It was impossible; how could Helena look so ravishing in comedically large trousers, an over-sized white shirt, and mustard tie? "You're beautiful." Myka whispered, before she could stop herself. She blushed deeper still, and moved back to the bed for her own sanity. Helena acted like she hadn't heard.

Helena finished her look with a grey waistcoat, and finally a brown hat. Everything clashed and jarred, and yet she was somehow stunning. She cocked the rim towards Myka in salute, and grabbed the scotch.

"What? I'm getting into character." Helena took a large drink from the bottle, and passed it to Myka. Myka did the same, eyes never leaving Helena's as she drank.

"Well, what he lacked in fashion sense, he certainly made up for in expensive whiskey." Myka declared, and laughed. She suddenly felt guilty. "Are we being disrespectful?" Helena was quick to reassure.

"Not at all. We're shedding light on this deceased man's eccentricities, and celebrating them. He's been dead for decades, Myka, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Helena had a way with words. She could probably talk her way out of anything. But Myka supposed it was true. If this were her room - and it might very well be, one day - she wouldn't mind a little fun, once in a while.

"Alright. I guess you're right. We should drink to him." Myka raised the scotch, took a more tentative sip, and Helena did the same. The scotch was certainly having an effect. Or maybe that was Helena. Who knew?

"To our fellow, fallen agent. Thank you for letting us remain safe in your old room. And, by the way, I really do like the tie." Helena said, saluting the bottle towards the ceiling.

"Alright then. My turn. Truth." Myka said, and took the bottle from Helena. She didn't drink from it, but felt she might need it before the next round of interrogation was through. It had never been her drink, whiskey, but the heady flavours and the sweet burn only enhanced her mood, tonight.

"Not quite yet, Myka. I believe my task is still in play." Her rebellious look returned, and Myka wondered what she had missed. "You asked me to put on the clothes... and take them off." Helena said, in her most flirtatious voice. She cocked her hat once more, and threw it at Myka. She started to sway her hips, to some invisible, sensual, music, and began to unbutton her waistcoat from the top down.

"Helena!" Myka exclaimed, laughing, and blushing, and... aroused. Helena's eyes never left hers. She bit her bottom lip, and un-fastened the second button.

"What, don't you want me to?" Helena asked, mock surprised. Myka stammered, lost for words. Helena sensed her weakness, and attacked.

"Truth. Do you want me to take of my clothes off for you... right... now?" Helena teased, with confidence Myka was jealous of. She couldn't look away.

"Truth?" Myka croaked.

"Only the truth, Myka. Please, tell me." Helena reveled in her discomfort. She was so secure in her own skin, in a way that Myka had never been. She was hypnotizing.

Myka was torn; being pulled a hundred different ways, inside. Inside, the heat below was screaming: _yes_. But could they come back from this? could they ever brush this off as a joke? Would she even want to? Myka took a drink of scotch -her lifeline- and passed the bottle to Helena, who took a long pull, and passed the bottle back. Her eyebrow raised in a silent question: _Well?_

"Well, it's part of your dare, I suppose you have to." Myka evaded, with a laugh that she wished sounded more confident. Helena was not appeased.

"That wasn't the question, and you know it." Helena accused, apparently impressed, but entirely aware, of Myka's evasion tactics. How had this happened? how was she losing her own game? And if this was losing, did she even want to win?

Myka looked Helena in the eyes, deeply, letting every emotion play on her face.

"Yes. Take your clothes off. For me." Myka breathed, and every invisible wall inside her came crashing down. There was no going back now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Helena accepted the challenge gratefully, grinning. Her hips started swaying once more. Myka couldn't look away, even if she had wanted to. Helena worked her way slowly down the waistcoat buttons, and shrugged it off one shoulder, then the other. She threw it to Myka with a smile that didn't touch her eyes; her eyes were lustful, alive, stalking her prey.

Next came the trousers. With a fluid pull on the belt, Helena simply let them fall to the floor. As she stepped out of them, Myka took the time to look from her toes to her face, unashamedly, drinking her in.

"Are you enjoying this?" Helena asked, as she began to unbutton her shirt from the bottom, revealing inch after inch of exposed skin.

"It's your turn," Myka managed, enthralled by Helena's hands. "Truth. Are _you_ enjoying this?"

"Oh, incredibly. I love watching you watch me." Her hands stopped their magic, and Helena opened her palms, beckoning Myka towards her. "Here, come and help me with my tie." Myka's body obeyed, without any protest.

Myka stood close to H.G. and began fumbling with her tie. Helena slid closer still, shirt half undone, pressing her lower body against Myka's as she worked. The feeling of her bare skin beneath the fabric of her clothes was exquisite.

"Truth," Helena whispered. "Have you ever kissed a woman before?" Helena's hands had found Myka's hips, holding her in place against her body.

Myka couldn't form words; instead she shook her head, gazing, transfixed, at Helena's lips.

"What..." Myka cleared her throat. "What is it like?"

Helena didn't reply; sometimes actions speak louder than words. She brought her lips to Myka's, and finally kissed her, soft at first. Helena helped Myka's forgotten hands away from her tie, and placed them around her neck instead.

It was happening, it was actually happening. Myka was lost in Helena's warmth. Her lips were satin and silk against her own. Her body reacted, and she felt the rush of need -a tidal wave- through her body. Warmth spread to her fingers and toes, and to her very core.

"It's soft..." Helena punctuated each word with a kiss, "Intimate..." "...Delicate..." Myka was lost within her whispers, within her kisses. "...And sometimes it's none of those things." Helena paused to look Myka in the eyes, before deepening their kiss. Myka felt a hand in her hair, gripping, owning, pulling her towards Helena. Nails scraped sensually along Myka's scalp. Myka's lips parted for Helena's exploring tongue. She gasped as Helena caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

And suddenly, the bed was beneath her, and her hands were once again tackling the mustard tie. Helena was on top of her, straddling her at the waist. Myka could feel her warmth emanating from between her legs, even through her own clothes. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before. At last the tie was free, forgotten on the floor. Helena was a vision above her, with only three buttons left closed on her oversized shirt. This needed to be rectified.

Myka's hands found the buttons, but H.G. was quicker. Together, they had her shirt open and off in seconds. Myka watched the cold air hit Helena's skin, and goosebumps appeared across her stomach.

"Are you cold?" Myka asked, dumbly. Her brain had completely shut down, blissfully fuzzy.

Helena smiled, shook her head slowly, and shifted backwards on the bed, still straddling her legs, and gently guided Myka up into a sitting position.

"Your turn." Helena whispered, and with skill and surety that Myka did not possess, Helena began to undo Myka's shirt, and kiss her neck at the same time. The sensation was overwhelming. Was this really happening? With brand new hands, Myka stroked up Helena's side, experiencing her skin for the first time. She found her bra strap. Helena mumbled her approval into her neck as she caught Myka's hear lobe between her teeth. "Yes, let's be out of these clothes." Helena whispered, breathless, into Myka's ear.

With impatience that was breathtaking, Helena moved further down the bed still, and began working on Myka's jeans.

Myka's head was spinning. She had had lovers before, but this was entirely new to her. This was different. She gasped as Helena planted kisses on her thighs, as she peeled off her jeans. The air was cooler now. How had she not noticed that? It was refreshing. Invigorating.

When Helena leaned back to drop Myka's jeans to the floor, Myka took the opportunity to gain some control. She would not lie still and let Helena seduce her. She had waited far too long for this.

"Clothes." Myka uttered, in a raw voice that was alien even to herself. Helena understood, and they both stripped off the last of their garments. Being away from Helena for even this long, was making Myka desperate to feel her skin again. They took a moment, then, to see each other naked. A desire stirred inside Myka stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Had she ever felt so aroused? She smiled at Helena; a wicked smile that she could never use in public.

"Come here." Myka demanded, and Helena obeyed in an instant.

They lay back down together, free from any barriers at last. Myka slid on top, a possessive leg thrust between Helena's thighs. She felt her way up and down Helena's body, gaining confidence by the second. "This...You..." Myka tried, and failed, to say what she was feeling. She was muted by another beautiful kiss.

With a look, and a final pull on Helena's bottom lip, Myka made her way downward, one kiss at a time. She knew exactly where she wanted to go. It took a few moments before Helena caught up.

"Myka, darling, are you sure? You've never-"

"I'm sure." Myka replied, looking up, deep into Helena's dark eyes, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. She had never been surer about anything before in her life. Helena stroked her wild, beautiful hair.

"We can take this as slow as you want."

"We are." Myka replied, and continued her trail of kisses.

Helena arched and moaned when Myka's tongue made contact with her core. Myka was sure she could never get enough of that sound. She slipped a finger inside her, and relished in another moan, before kissing and licking and tasting. The taste was exquisite; feral and sweet. Myka moved on instinct, imagining what she would like Helena to do to her, and copying her imagination.

H.G. Wells; untouchable, unfathomable, H.G. Wells, was completely at her mercy. Myka pushed deep inside her, as she felt Helena climax beneath her. She felt the shudders around her fingers. Myka was in awe; she had never felt so much pleasure, giving pleasure before. After an age, or a few moments, she felt a loving hand in her hair.

"That was..." Myka began, but words wouldn't come.

"It was..." Helena tried, and failed, breathless. "Your turn." Helena stirred, with lust and love in her eyes. She looked deliriously happy in that moment, and Myka felt pride swell inside her - that she had caused that joy.

Helena wasted no time lying Myka down, and spreading her legs. Her fingers and mouth found every single spot, and Myka was close to the edge in a matter of minutes. Her hands found Helena's hair, and she arched into her caresses. _This is it_, Myka thought. _This is what love feels like: soft, and intimate, and delicate... and sometimes none of those things._

She could hold on no longer; with a final moan, Myka was over the edge, and Helena was there, in her arms, when she returned back to earth.

They lay, foreheads touching, legs and arms entwined, too awed to speak, or to sleep. Helena kissed Myka slowly, and she could taste herself on Helena's lips. The thought was almost enough to send her hands wandering once more, but she decided against it. She would never tire of Helena, but she was tired. Their room was in limbo; they could have been here for days, for all she knew. Or cared.

They pulled apart, unwillingly, but only an inch. They settled in, to sleep in each other's arms.

Pete woke at 6am. He had no idea why. He had intended to lie in at least until 10. But, it was ok. Suddenly, he knew, everything was alright. He had the most amazing vibe. It didn't take him long to puzzle out why.

Maybe he had better go let the ladies out later on, after all. Pete couldn't wait to see if his suspicions were correct. And anyway, he was sure Artie might have a heart attack.


End file.
